Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles (9 page)

Read Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles Online

Authors: Kate Pearce

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles
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“You know that I was married just after you left Wales?”
Her soft voice jerked him away from his tangled thoughts. “Aye.”
“Did anyone ever tell you why I married so young?”
“I never asked. I assumed that was what you wanted.”
Verity looked over her shoulder at him. “It was what my parents wanted. For me to have the life they considered appropriate: as a wife and mother.”
“And there is nothing wrong with that,” Rhys said gently.
“If that is what the girl herself wants.”
“You didn’t want to marry?”
“I wanted . . .” She paused and turned to face him. “I wanted to be like Rosalind.”
“
You
did?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Rhys. I know you saw me as just another weak and feeble girl—if you ever thought of me at all.” She shook her head. “My parents and Jasper loved me, but they stifled me. I felt trapped by their expectations.”
“I can see how that might happen.” Rhys met her gaze. “I was never given a choice either. My father had been a slayer and after he died I was destined to follow in his footsteps.”
Verity tilted her head to one side to study him. “You are considered one of the finest Vampire slayers in existence.”
“So I’ve been told.” He couldn’t believe they were now discussing his feelings. Wasn’t this conversation supposed to be about her? “So what happened to change your plans?”
“Beltane.”
“You were the Chosen?”
“Yes. I went without my parents’ permission. I was sixteen and extremely foolish. My father insisted I marry the man who claimed me.” Her mouth twisted. “When Gareth realized I was a Llewellyn, he was more than willing.”
Rhys frowned. “Marriage was not required. No Druid would reject you for giving up your maidenhead to the gods. Quite the contrary.”
“No, it was just an excuse my father used. My family was eager to get me settled into a marriage and off their hands. I wasn’t a very dutiful daughter.”
Rhys let out his breath in a soundless whistle. “So you were married against your will.”
She swallowed hard. “Gareth didn’t really care for me at all, and I made no attempt to hide my resentment. We did not suit and there was nothing either of us could do about it.” She met his gaze, her blue eyes stark. “I’m glad he’s dead, Rhys. It set me free.”
He was surprised not only by her bleak words but by the strength underlying them.
“How did he die?”
“In a Vampire attack.” She bit down on her lip. “It was . . . horrible.”
“You were there?”
She looked away from him, tears glinting in her eyes. “We were traveling back to Pembrokeshire from his home when we were ambushed by a band of Vampires. I saw them drag Gareth from his horse.” Her hand crept to her cheek. “His throat was torn and bloody and he was screaming for help. I was trying to fight off another Vampire and I couldn’t get to him in time.”
“Which is when you learned that you have to kill or be killed.” Rhys got up and went to her, wrapped her in his arms and rocked her. “It wasn’t your fault,
cariad
—you know that.”
She struggled to raise her head and meet his gaze. “It proves that I can kill, though.”
He stroked her hair. “In extremis I should imagine most people can.”
“Stop trying to placate me!” She pulled out of his arms. “Since Gareth’s death I have learned to depend on no one but myself. I resolved
never
to let myself be led astray by the pleasures of the flesh again. I endured a disastrous marriage because of my desire to be bedded.”
He used his fingertips to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “You were sixteen. By all the saints, at that age I thought of nothing else.”
“That is acceptable for a man, but not for a woman.”
“Which is ridiculous.”
She managed a small smile. “You only say that because you want to kiss me.”
“I want to do more than kiss you. I want . . .” He looked down at her softly parted lips and allowed himself to be honest about his desires for the first time in a long while. “I want you naked and writhing in my arms while I plunge my prick deep inside you until you scream my name.”
She stared at him, her cheeks flushing with delicate color. “Which is why I need to keep away from you.”
“Because you want it too?”
She broke free of him. “Yes!”
“You are not sixteen anymore.”
“Are you suggesting that I will make a better choice now when my body is yearning to let you touch me?”
He took another step toward her. “Yes.”
“Then you don’t understand anything.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I don’t want to feel like that—out of control, needing a man, needing . . . you.”
He kept moving toward her, couldn’t have stopped if his life had depended on it. “We don’t have to let it consume us. There are ways that we can be together that will bring us pleasure without a full bedding.”
She stared at him as if he were the snake in the Garden of Eden, her gaze half fascinated and half afraid. “What pleasure is there in this for a woman? Why should I risk making a fool of myself again by putting myself at the mercy of a man?”
He smiled and held out his hand. “Let me show you. I’ll wager that I’ll be the one begging for mercy.” She folded her arms as if still reluctant, but he kept on. “I have no intention of trapping you into anything. I just want to give you pleasure.”
He waited, his hand still outstretched until her fingers closed over his and he drew her near.
She felt right in his arms, a combination of familiar and new that excited him beyond measure. He kissed her forehead, her pert nose; he enjoyed the way her lips parted beneath his with a gasp, allowing him into the warm haven of her mouth. Then apprehension colored his intense desire. Had her husband hurt her, made her fear what should be the most joyous of pleasures?
He stopped kissing her. What did he know of pleasuring a woman? He’d relieved his physical urges, but never with a woman he truly cared about.
“Rhys?” Verity whispered.
He looked down at her and saw the trepidation in her eyes, the way she looked as if she was bracing herself against his invasion of her body. That would never do. Certainty flooded through him. He could do this. He could give her what he’d always wanted to give the woman he loved.
Verity sighed as Rhys kissed her again and tried to relax into his embrace. She’d half expected him to start ripping at her clothing and shoving himself inside her as her husband had liked to do. Once the enchantment of Beltane wore off, Verity had never really felt at ease with his coarse demands.
But this, this was different. Rhys handled her as if she were made of precious glass, as if finding out what pleased her made everything more enjoyable for him too. Verity wrapped her hand around his neck as he lowered his head and kissed a slow path down her throat, untying the neck of her shirt as he went.
She heard his groan as his questing fingers brushed the linen that bound her breasts and reached behind her back to show him where to unravel her from her bonds. He took his time, pushing her shirt off her shoulders and unwrapping her like a parcel. His eyes devoured every inch of skin he revealed, his mouth and hands touching and tasting her until she was writhing against him and struggling to rid him of his shirt.
He angled her across his lap, his face buried between her breasts, the rasp of his stubbled chin an added sensation that made her gasp. He murmured to her in Welsh, endearments tangled with his need for her, his words spoken against her skin as he suckled her breasts.
When his hand slid down over her hip and came to rest between her thighs, she didn’t resist him, but let him press the heel of his hand against her most sensitive flesh, warm even through the fabric of her hose.
“Please, Rhys,” she whispered, even though she knew her words might change everything, might result in her being thrown on her back and mercilessly taken. His fingers worked at the fastenings of her hose and slid inside. She held her breath as he learned her, shivered as his fingers slipped and circled around her already wet and swollen quim and sensitive bud.
“Verity, you feel beautiful,” he murmured as he continued to explore her. “I have to taste you.” He sat her on the bench and sank between her now widespread knees, pulling her hose off her legs with her boots.
Before she realized his intention, his mouth was on her most intimate of parts. She grabbed at his hair thinking to stop him and then went rigid as the tip of his tongue toyed with her stiff bud, bringing a wave of pleasure she had never experienced before. His fingers joined the torment, sliding in and out of her in counterpoint to the motion of his tongue.
Verity squeezed her eyes tightly shut and felt the sensations build and build until she had to let them go or die. She screamed his name as her body convulsed, pulsing against his questing fingers and drawing a groan from him that reverberated through her flesh.
 
 
Rhys shuddered and rested his face against her thigh, his chest heaving, his hands gripping her bottom, and then slowly raised his head. Verity could only stare down at him and watch as he licked his lips. He winced and reached up to untangle her hands from his hair.
“I pleased you, my lady?”
“You—you,” Verity stuttered. “I did not know a man could do that. I did not realize I . . .”
His smile was slow in coming but full of sensual satisfaction. He kissed her knee and moved backward so that she could bring her thighs together. Sensation fluttered through her and she closed her eyes as he stood up and handed her her clothes.
As she dressed, Verity couldn’t help but glance at his groin. “Should I touch you? It seems somewhat unfair.”
“There is no need.” He looked down at himself with a somewhat embarrassed air. “Your satisfaction overwhelmed me and I released my seed like an untried boy.”
“Oh . . .” Verity felt her cheeks heating. “I’m sorry.”
He bowed. “There is no need to be, my lady. I can scarce complain when all I wanted was for you to take your pleasure. However, I think we should return to our lodgings. I need to change before I start my patrol.”
“Oh . . .” Verity repeated, aware of his heated gaze and the curious sensation that he wanted more from her. “Of course we should go. I will seek an audience with the king tomorrow and make sure that I am given leave to guard the queen.”
While she finished dressing, he extinguished most of the candles and made sure the weapons were secured. Earlier he’d given her a sword that had once belonged to Rosalind, and in practice she had fared much better with it. The sword now hung from her hip along with her silver-tipped dagger. She might not be as fearsome as Rhys, but at least she was well equipped.
He walked her back to the queen’s quarters, his stride steady, his watchful gaze everywhere. At the side door, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for a most enjoyable evening.”
“I scarcely think it was enjoyable for
you
.”
He shrugged, the motion only emphasizing his considerable elegance and strength. “Your fighting skills are improving and I gave you pleasure. What more could a man ask?”
“For his own?”
He smiled. “I’m sure we can remedy that in the future.” He paused. “If you are willing.”
She gathered her courage. “I believe I am.”
“Then I look forward to our next encounter and wish you a good-night.”
 
 
Rhys bowed and walked away, aware that Verity was still watching him. He ducked his head to avoid some of the lower-hanging branches of the trees and groaned. His left shoulder was aching like the devil and his prick was letting him know how deeply dissatisfied it was with his juvenile performance.
A flicker in the shadows brought his sword to attention and he spun around to see Elias Warner leaning against the nearest tree, Olivia by his side.
“Good evening, Sir Rhys.” Elias’s gaze seemed to penetrate Rhys’s mind and he fought a trickle of unease. “You have been busy today.”
For a lowering moment, Rhys wondered what exactly Elias was referring to before he recollected that Elias had been in the crowd watching him earlier. “The man I fought. Do you know him?”
“I do not. He has only recently come into Lord Thomas Seymour’s employ. He seemed rather determined to defeat you.”
“You noticed that, did you?” Absently Rhys rubbed his bruised cheek. “He warned me off, told me to go home or else he would kill me next time.”
Elias frowned. “I had not heard that the Seymours were employing Vampires to protect their sister the queen.”
“You thought the man was a Vampire too?” Rhys asked.
“Indeed. Did you doubt it?”
Rhys was aware of a crushing sense of relief. “None of the others seemed to notice. I’d begun to believe it was my imagination.”

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